A Rentmas Carol
by overthemoon07
Summary: Technically a crossover, I don't know if parody fits? Benjamin Coffin, or should I say, Scrooge, is visited by three ghosts but will they be able to melt his icy heart? Post-RENT; possible smut to come
1. Chapter 1 A Question

NOTE: I do not own RENT nor do I own 'A Christmas Carol'. I've also never read the actual book; going by movies, specifically A Muppet's Christmas Carol, as that is my favorite version. :-) I know this is probably over done, but I just had a burst of inspiration; the pairings are a little different, but I like them. Just give it a shot. Please comment with feedback, lemme know what you think. My first rent-fic in a looooong time. Thanks!

Gray was dead; to begin with. Died of a heart attack two years prior. Right around Christmas, if Benjamin was remembering correctly. He'd inherited the entire company, left in charge to run the place, and had only lost a quarter of the money in the divorce. He hated to see it go but if it shut her up, he was better off. He'd more than made up for it in a year and he was better off alone anyway. He didn't have to worry about her wasting it on frivolous things, like a fertility specialist, doctor bills, travel expenses… Yes, he was quite content with his place in life, owning all of the apartment complexes in Alphabet City, collecting rent from the miserable creatures who dared live there. But where else where they to go?

A solemn daze settled over his features as he allowed himself to get lost in thought, daydreaming about his next project, wondering just how expensive that plan would be. His elbows dug into the desk in front of him, a bottle of whiskey unopened beside a clean shot glass, his paperwork sprawled over the desk as the only noise in the damp, dark building was the crackling of a meager fire, and the clicking of keys from the typewriter. The phones had been rather quiet, which only left the man more time to think, lips pursed as he stared ahead.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Coffin, sir?"

The timid voice jarred Benny from his thoughts and he turned quickly, brown eyes taking a moment to adjust in the poor lighting. There, in the doorway, stood a very pale, very thin shell of a man he used to know. It was strange to see the man in a shirt and tie, even after the few years he'd been working here. The blue fabric appeared to be strangling him, too tight around his too thin neck, his thin trembling fingers playing with the end of it before shifting the thick spectacles upon the bridge of his crooked nose. He looked… so different and yet just the same, his mess of blonde hair sticking up this way and that, blue eyes crystal clear behind the scratched lenses. He didn't smile anymore, that was different. The years were beginning to show, earlier than they should've, but he was still the same.

"Cohen," Benny replied flatly, dropping his gaze back to the papers immediately as he shifted in his big leather chair.

"Sir, if you please, everyone is finished for the evening," he continued, his swallowing audible, voice shaking lightly. "We'll begin closing up shop if you like."

Fifteen minutes early. A rather annoyed look washed over his face as he swiveled his chair back and forth, knees hitting the legs of his desk gently. "Well, if you're certain everything is done… I expect to see you all the earlier tomorrow morning."

"But sir…" Mark began, blurting out without thinking. Well, now he had to finish. "Tomorrow… tomorrow's Christmas."

Was it, now? As if he didn't believe the blond, his eyes darted to the cheap wall calendar beside his desk and noticed that tomorrow was indeed a holiday. "Alright, take an hour off," he muttered, shrugging.

"Ben-- Mr. Coffin. That's hardly customary for Christmas," Mark argued, frowning. He knew his boss was cold, but had he really forgotten Christmas? Mark wasn't going to come in tomorrow, not when he'd been looking forward to a day off, finally able to spend a little extra time with everyone back at the loft. But he knew he couldn't lose this job. Not while he was the only one bringing steady income into the household.

"Well, just what is customary, Mr. Cohen? The entire day?" His thin eyebrows arched, tone accusatory as he leaned forward slightly, blazer scrunching up on his shoulders.

"Yes," Mark answered, his blue eyes lifting to meet the other pair, decidedly not backing down for the time being. "Every other company will be closed, you'll have no one to do business with."

Benny sighed softly, a tiny piece of his icy heart warming for a moment as he thought briefly of the Christmases spent with his now employee years ago, and he knew he couldn't be open tomorrow. "It's a poor excuse to rob a man's pocket, December the twenty fifth, but as I seem to be the only one to realize it…" he muttered, leaning back in his chair and shuffling his papers around. "Fine. Take the day off."

A rush of relief flooded through the thin blonde man as his boss agreed and he nodded his head. "Thank you." Mark turned quickly, intending to hurry out the door but was stopped by another figure in the doorway, this one much less intimidating than the one he'd previously faced.

"Mark!"

"Joanne!" he uttered, jaw dropping before he wound his arms around her rather quickly, pecking a kiss to her cheek. "What are you doing here?" he added softly, face screwing up with confusion.

"Just dropping by to check in on everything," she replied with a wink, ruffling his hair before peering around her friend to see Benny. "Coffin," she chirped, a big basket in her other hand. "Merry Christmas."

"Jefferson," he replied flatly, brow furrowed, obviously as confused as Mark appeared to be.

"The proper response would be 'Merry Christmas to you, too'," she informed him, doc martins scuffing along the floor as she set the basket on his desk with a loud thunk. Peering around her shoulder, Mark noted the contents were mostly bottles, alcohol tucked neatly into a red and green basket, a note attached. "From my company to yours."

Maureen's ex had continued to climb the corporate ladder at work and was currently the head of a law firm just uptown a ways. She'd stayed friends with the group after the split with Maureen, and was just as close if not closer with the diva as before. However, her career had always been important and so she visited on occasion and sent money when she could. Most of the time, she was busy trying to find a way to fire Benny's ass and Benny knew it.

"Christmas?" Benny asked with a slight scowl, nose wrinkled as he investigated the liquor. "Bah, humbug."

"Come on, Coffin, smile," she insisted with a slight smirk, her short curls framing her pretty face. "Looks like you haven't flexed your face muscles in years."

"I will smile the day you are run out of business," he muttered, shoving the basket aside. "Cohen, you may show Ms. Jefferson to the door."

"I can do that myself," Joanne interrupted, straightening up and backing toward Mark. "I'll see you in court two weeks from tomorrow, Sir."

Mark's jaw dropped slightly, almost unable to believe he'd just witnessed all of that and fumbled for something to say. But Benny beat him to it.

"Over my dead body," he grumbled, sulking in his chair as he started clearing off his desk.

"Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year," she smiled, bowing rather dramatically, pulling a 'Maureen', before hugging Mark tightly. "I'll try to make it over tomorrow, but we're supposed to go to Lucy's parents and then my parents… what time is dinner?"

"Whenever the Chinese food arrives," Mark chuckled, hugging her back. "Don't worry about it. Of course it'll be nice to see you, but if you're busy, we understand."

"I'll try," she repeated, kissing his cheek before stepping out the door. "God bless!"

"No wonder Maureen dated her. She's just as obnoxious," Benny grumbled, shaking his head. "Go close up and I expect you to be here on time the next day."

"Yes, sir," Mark mumbled before hurrying out the door, shutting it quickly. "What am I doing?" he uttered softly, running a hand back through his hair quickly before mustering up a smile to tell the workers tomorrow was a vacation. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing and for that, Mark could sleep easy tonight.


	2. Chapter 2 A Haunting

Benny was tired. Maybe it had been all of the long office hours he'd been keeping that were finally catching up to him. To be quite frank, it was probably the extra stress he'd been carrying around, trying to finish things up in time for the new year. And with the endless phone calls from Joanne's company, from the tenants complaining about a lack of heat, lack of electricity, each with their own excuses of why they couldn't pay rent on time, or at all.

Throwing people out of apartments was a tiring job.

He could hear his employees cleaning up outside of his office, the door left open a tiny crack as he began closing up his own shop. He was distracted, however, by another knock at the door. What was with people today? No one ever came to visit. Before he could answer the knock, the door creaked open and a beautiful woman stepped in, a smile on her face. One by one, she tugged her gloves off each finger and moved a hand back through her big, thick chocolate curls and he couldn't help but be reminded of a certain ex-roommate of his. Realizing he was gaping, he shut his mouth quickly and cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Coffin? I'm Helen Anders, from Friends in Deed," she explained, smoothing out her blouse before handing a pamphlet over to him. "I just wanted to drop by and ask humbly for a contribution as it is the holidays and the time for giving."

Benny's face remained void of any emotion as he took the flyer, unimpressed and truth be told, he didn't really care what she had to say. "What is this?"

"Friends in Deed is a support group for those living with HIV and AIDS. We were hoping you might lend a hand to those in need at this time, as it gets colder and less and less people have the finances to pay for antibiotics and other medication." Her kind smile never faltered as her soft voice explained everything to the crabby man behind the desk and when he didn't speak, she assumed he was thinking over the amount he would give. "So what shall I put you down for?"

"Nothing," he muttered, tossing it back at her, brown eyes fixed on the desk in front of him.

"You… wish to remain anonymous?" she questioned, holding her folder of information in her arms.

"I wish to be left alone!" he quipped, temper slipping out and coloring his words.

"But sir," Helen protested, pretty face twisting into a frown. "We rely on donations from good people such as yourselves who are more fortunate than others. Without medication and support, these people will die."

"Well, if they're going to die," he started, gritting his teeth as he stared back at her. "They better do it and decrease the surplus population."

"Oh, dear," she mumbled softly, eyes falling towards the floor. "I see we're not going to agree. I apologize for wasting your time, sir. Happy Christmas and God Bless."

"Bah, humbug!" he called after her, watching her hurry out of the office. What the hell was with people today? He couldn't stand it - there was no way he'd get any more work done tonight so he stood and started throwing everything into his briefcase, hoping he'd be able to work from home tomorrow. There was a lot of accounting to go over, and he wanted to start out fresh in January. He heard the last of the workers shuffle out and when he deemed it safe, he slipped from his office, bundled up in a trench coat, leather gloves and an expensive designer scarf, headed home.

Home of course was a large apartment uptown quite a ways, filled with every luxury life could offer. The minute the latest gadget came out, it was on it's way to his doorstep. Large glass windows lined the walls, and the place was much too big for just one person. But it was what he wanted. Upon approaching the door, he fumbled around for his keys, forgetting which pocket they were in, the sun setting gently behind the complex. "Damn keys," he grumbled softly, finally locating them and moving towards the door.

"_Benjamin…"_

His head snapped up, glancing back over his shoulder. "Who's there?" he called out, jamming the keys into the door with a trembling hand. "What do you want?"

When no one answered, he sighed and shook his head. He'd definitely been working himself too hard. His eyes moved back toward the door as he tried to shake the feeling of paranoia, but to his surprise, a familiar face was staring back, replacing the doorknob.

"_BENJAMIN!"_

A loud yelp fell from Benny's lips as he stumbled backward, tripping on the cement stoop and falling onto his rear, whole body trembling as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey, buddy. You alright?"

He jumped upon feeling a hand against his shoulder and quickly skittered away. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, scowling at the scraggly man in front of him, cowering on the stoop of his apartment.

"Alright, jeez, mister," the man grumbled, shuffling on down the road.

Swallowing hard, Benny clutched at his chest and tried to calm himself. It was stress, stress was making him hallucinate. Cautiously, he dared a glance over his shoulder to find the doorknob was… just a doorknob. Oh, what an ass he'd made of himself. Chuckling softly, he stood up and brushed himself off before hurrying inside, ready for a long hot shower.

Later that evening, he found himself settled in his big velvet armchair, a bottle of beer in one hand and the football game blasting out of the speakers of his huge television set. Giants vs. Patriots, a rerun from Sunday's game, and the Giants were getting their ass handed to them. Not worth watching… so it hadn't taken long for the young man to doze off, barely even nine o clock. The slumber, as needed as it was, wasn't a peaceful one. Dark, daunting dreams haunted his sleep and at the toll of the grandfather clock in the corner, Benny woke with a start, gasping for breath, face dripping with sweat.

"Fucking Christ," he muttered softly, leaning back and covering his face with his hand. "I need a sedative."

A cool breeze rushed over his face upon his completion of the sentence and he frowned, opening his eyes again. Had he left a window open? Standing slowly, stretching his back, he clicked off the tv and peered around. Everything seemed to be closed. "Yeah, it's definitely time for bed," he muttered, shaking his head. Reaching over, he stuck his hand up under the lamp shade and felt around for the knob. However, what he felt wasn't a knob at all - it was cold and slimy, and he quickly pulled his hand back, knocking the entire stand over, light bulb smashing on the ground.

An eerie chuckle rumbled in the darkness, making the young man's heart race as he whipped his head from side to side. "Stop it!" he demanded, clutching the remote to his chest. "Get out of my house!"

The chuckle echoed again, followed by the sound of a match being struck and as he peered into the darkness, spotting the small circle of light, the same haunting face from before appeared, grinning a toothy grin. He stumbled backwards, only to land in his armchair once again, jaw moving soundlessly. The figure continued to smile as it moved yet closer, now a mere three feet from the businessman.

"Hello, Benjamin."


	3. Chapter 3 A Visit

NOTE: Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting! I really appreciate it and apologize for the wait. Real life's been catching up to me. Kicking my bum. It's almost time for turkey break though, which will be nice! And I watched the Muppet's Christmas Carol twice to get some inspiration. It'll start picking up more in the next chapter, I promise. I know it's a little slow going right now. This isn't my favorite chapter, but it's alright. Please keep reading and giving feedback, even if it's constructive criticism! Thanks!!! I do not own RENT or A Christmas Carol.

His heart was pounding, sweat dripping down his slick skin, knuckles white as he gripped onto the armrests of his velvet chair. Sure, he'd hallucinated before, but after half a bottle of Absinthe split with Roger and a bunch of dancing fairies had swept about the room. A bottle of beer definitely couldn't scrounge up the vision of his ex-father-in-law, whom he'd known to be dead for three years now. Definitely not. This had to be a nightmare. That was all. A really bad dream, indigestion from those leftovers. He knew the Chinese food had been in there for far too long. All he had to do was close his eyes, click his heels together and wish for home and he'd wake up. Or he could always jump from the window. No one died in dreams right? He'd have to wake up.

"Nervous, boy?" A crackling laugh echoed from behind him. "That's certainly no way to greet your father-in-law and certainly not your boss!" He barked before another explosion of laughter left his lips. "Get your ass over here."

A large part of him wanted to obey and get up, something he'd been trained to do for so long but another part of him was sure he was still dreaming. However, curiosity seemed to win out in the end and he found himself padding bare foot over to the kitchen. The man looked exactly like Mr. Grey, hunched over at the counter, a glass of brandy between his wrinkled fingers, though there were a few differences. The smell for one - formaldehyde and rotten vegetables - a strange grayish color to his leathery skin and atop the shoulders of his expensive designer suit lay a thick rusting chain. But it wasn't really laying there, it was as if it were attached, a growth from the man's shoulders.

"Stop staring, it's rude," he grumbled, picking up the glass in front of him to toss the amber liquid back. It drizzled down over his ribcage, through his hips and came out his pant leg, spilling all over the hardwood floor.

"Sorry, sir," Benny murmured, awestruck as he moved to the other side of the bar, just the light of the moon washing in through his wall to wall windows to illuminate the place. "Sir?"

"It's a chain," he replied, cold grey eyes lifting to meet Benny's. "It's my cross to bear. For all of the horrible things I have done."

"Sir, what are you talking about? What horrible things?"

"What horrible things?" he asked, a dark chuckle mixed among his words. "I led an awful life, Benjamin. Absolutely terrible. I took advantage of everyone, cared only for myself, and loved nothing more than money."

"That's not true, sir. You were a kind and patient man."

"You remember that time I evicted the entire tent city?" he asked with a grim smile, shaking his head. "Or shut down the children's hospital and the women's shelter."

"They couldn't pay. It wasn't as if you didn't give a proper warning. They couldn't pay, sir."

"I was consumed with greed, Benjamin, just as you are. I pushed away everything else I ever loved, even my own… my daughter," he muttered bitterly, staring into the glass which was suddenly filled again. "Just as you have."

"Right, about that," he started, scratching at the back of his head.

"It doesn't matter. She's better off without you anyway," he growled, throwing back the drink again. "I've come to warn you."

Benny stuttered softly, trying to think of something to say. But everything that came to mind just sounded pointless or ridiculous. So he just stood there, staring and gaping like a prize idiot.

"You're headed right down my path, son, if you don't change your ways. You'll be old, miserable and alone, with nothing but money and let me tell you, money is cold and incapable of loving you back," he continued, pointing a finger at the young man in front of him. "There are chains that await you. Let me tell you, it's not pretty."

"What are you talking about?" Benny asked, face twisting in confusion as he shook his head. "You're… you're not even real. You're just… a bad dream."

"This isn't a dream, kid. I'm living your worst nightmare," he whispered, leaning up right into Benny's face, wild eyes holding his. "Tonight you'll be visited by three spirits. Without these visits you cannot even hope to change the fate that awaits your fucking miserable excuse for a soul."

As much as he wanted to believe this was a dream, he couldn't control the tremor of fear that tumbled down his spine and shook him right down to his Calvin Kline boxer briefs. Gulping, he tried to take a step back but the rotting gray arm shot forward and gripped his throat, closing off the air supply and pulling him forward.

"This is no joke. This is not a dream. If you have any hope for salvation, you will heed my warning and do as I say, you greedy selfish bastard. The first ghost will come when the bell strikes one, you hear me?"

It was all Benny could do to nod as he tried to pull the fingers off of his throat, feeling his head swirl from a lack of oxygen. When the hand finally let go, the young man collapsed back onto the floor, panting, wincing and rubbing at his neck.

"Three spirits. One o'clock, save your soul," Mr. Grey summed up, slamming his glass onto the counter before exploding into a thousand tiny droplets, like confetti, and disappearing before they could hit the floor.

"What… what the fuck…" Benny panted softly, leaning back against his refrigerator, the surface cool against his sticky back. The last few moments replayed in fast forward through his head as he sat there and when he'd finished, he scrambled up and bolted for the door, making sure it was locked before checking each window and eventually locking himself into his bedroom for the night. Once he was sure he was safe under the covers, a flashlight on the nightstand, he slowly let himself relax and fall into a dream filled sleep, tossing and turning and mumbling to himself.


	4. Chapter 4 A Smile

**NOTE:** I don't own anything. Read and review, please! It's starting to pick up!

Sleep didn't come easily or peacefully to Benny that night. He'd tossed and turned, tangling himself in his sheets as he dreamed, dark terrifying thoughts haunting his slumber. He was being chased, panting and gasping for breath until he rolled himself off of the mattress, his body hitting the floor finally waking him. "Jesus Christ," he whispered, chest heaving as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.

"Not even close."

Eyes batting open, Benny found himself face to face with a pair of torn up purple Converse sneakers, toes wiggling inside of them. Knowing it would only get worse, but that it was also inevitable, he slowly followed the feet up, legs wrapped up in black tights, a purple skirt ending at the knees. A tattered too-big black hoodie swallowed up the rest of the thin frame, a lacy white tank top sticking out around her chest until his eyes met those all too familiar green ones, a huge beautiful smile on her lips.

"I should've known it'd be you," he murmured, sitting up as he shoved the sheets away from his half naked body.

"Surprise!" she grinned, holding her hands out rather theatrically as her red hair bounced around her cheeks and shoulders. "You missed me. Tell me you missed me."

A soft chuckle left his lips as he shook his head, reaching up to turn on the bedside lamp before she dropped right down in his lap, her disregard for personal space still present. She smelt of lavender and cigarettes and mint, just as he remembered, and her soft hair still tickled his cheek when she kissed it with her cherry chapstick lips.

"April," he hummed softly, wrapping his arms around her and for a moment, it was as if she hadn't even left, as if they were back in the loft, she the only sane one present. He half expected Roger to storm in and demand a kiss of his own, or Maureen to dance in wearing her Led Zeppelin T-shirt and a pair of Collins' boxers, singing some ridiculous show tune at the top of her lungs.

"Hi Benny," she replied with a smile before pulling back slightly to get a good look at him. Then, with a quick change of pace, her hand flew at his face, a loud smack ringing in the air.

Rendered speechless for a few moments, Benny just stared at the window, his face turned to the side from the force before it sunk it and started to sting. "OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?"

"For being an asshole!" she shouted back, shoving his chest again before she did a summersault out of his lap and up onto her feet again, fixing one of the little black star clips in her messy hair. "For forgetting who your friends are and for not writing."

"Wait wait wait… wait, not writing?"

"I may be dead but I can still hear you know. You could've read it to me," she insisted, hands on her hips as he scrambled to his feet. "Oh, just look at you…" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly, head shaking as he straightened himself out. "You yuppy bastard." There was a grin on her face, but he could hear the sadness in her voice. It made him want to hang his head in shame, like a kicked puppy, but he resisted and stayed quiet.

"Well, let's go. Get dressed," she replied, waving her hands at him. "And don't you dare put on anything designer. No tie."

"April… you're just… a dream. This isn't real," he told her softly, though he couldn't shake the feeling of her in his arms, how warm she'd been and how wonderful she'd smelt.

"Scuse me? Are you trying to tell me I'm just a dream? I am a spirit. Okay. Get it right. And get your damn clothes on," she added, stomping her foot slightly. "Like a normal person."

Well, it was just a dream. He supposed he could go along with it for now. It took a few minutes to find something she approved of, a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, his old college zip-up over that, and a pair of sneakers.

"I can't remember the last time I wore jeans," he admitted to her as he looked himself over in the mirror, tugging at the sweatshirt as well. "This feels so…"

"Comfortable," April finished for him with a smile as she moved to stand next to him. "Much better."

Benny gaped back at the mirror, though, as he felt her standing next to him, her arm around his shoulders, but no reflection in the glass. "How did you…"

"Come on, we got a lot of shit to see, baby," she informed him, taking his hand and leading him toward the front door. Benny was too stunned to refuse, too happy to see her to be angry and alright, maybe he was a little curious to find out where they were going.

*

"A subway station?" Benny asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow at the redhead. "You brought me to a subway station?"

"Shut up and get on," she winked, pushing him onto the train. "Hold on tight."

Benny barely had time to grab the rail above the seat before the train shot forward, going from zero to a million in point two seconds. He stumbled backwards and it was only April's hand grabbing onto the scruff of his shirt that held him upright as they flew, everything blending into one white light ahead of them. It was freezing, too, like sticking your head out the car window in a snow storm in December. And just as fast as it had started, it was over, the quick stop sending him tripping over his feet, causing April to giggle.

"Glad I amuse you," he muttered softly as he followed her off of the subway. Expecting the usual underground stench to hit his nose, he was surprised when the warm scent of sugar cookies and pumpkin spice met his nose instead. Blinking slowly, he found himself standing in a very familiar kitchen, mouth watering from the scents filling his nose.

"Mom," he breathed softly, a genuine smile meeting his lips.

"Wow, you're smiling," April murmured, reaching up to pinch his cheek gently.

He swatted her hand away gently as he stalked forward in a trance-like state, a delighted look upon his face. "My home," he murmured, following the memorized twists and turns, searching out the beautiful woman who'd created him. Arriving in the living room, Benny stopped behind the couch, mesmerized by the picture in front of him. There she stood, hands around the waist of a little boy, lifting him up slowly as he reached out and struggled to place the star atop the tree. His little pink tongue poked out as he concentrated and a smile of pure delight met his lips when it set in place, just like the one Benny had on his face at that very moment.

"You're so cute," April gushed, leaning over his shoulder as she watched, cheek against his.

"She's gorgeous," he replied, squeezing April's hand as they looked on. A teenaged girl rocked in the chair beside the tree as she strung popcorn and cranberries onto the piece of thread, humming to the carols coming out of the record player and on the floor beside her, eating more than he was stringing, sat the middle child, who looked just like an older version of his brother.

"Lucy, I'm home!" a voice called, causing delighted squeals to ring out from all of the lips as the children ran to greet the man at the door. He was overloaded with bags and snow clung to his hat and his shoulders as he grinned, tackled by the children. Benny and April watched as he pecked a kiss to his wife and then ushered everyone back into the living room as he shed his jacket and hat.

"The tree looks great," he murmured, winding an arm around Mrs. Coffin, the kids busy once again with the tree decorations.

"We've missed you," she replied, kissing his cheek before taking his hand and setting it over her belly. "All of us."

April turned her head slowly, a smirk growing as she saw the sparkle in Benny's eyes. He looked so much like the child in front of them, fists full of cranberries as the older children laughed and tossed popcorn at each other. It would've made her heart melt.

"This was… our last Christmas together," he added softly, cocking his head to the side as he watched his parents. "She died… giving birth. God, I miss her. She always smelled like cinnamon."

"Come on," April murmured softly, reaching for his hand again. "There is much to see."

"Just… just a few more minutes," he insisted, unable to tear his eyes from the picture until it slowly began to blur, like rain staining a painting. "Mom…" he mumbled once more, blinking furiously to keep the emotion from spilling out. "Why would you show me that?"

"Look at how happy you all were," April told him as they walked, her arm linked through his as he shoved his hands into his pockets, following her down the sidewalk. "Your family…"

"I don't want to see anything else," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh, honey, we've only just begun. I have the best part. D'you know how many Christmases you've gone through?" She grinned from ear to ear, a little too excited about this job, especially when Benny was feeling so miserable but he followed anyway, knowing that escape was not possible.

"Come on, I think I can hear the guitar," she smiled, hurrying them into the white light again.


End file.
